Serpentlord (Rise To Omniscience Book 9), page 27
Still, he had warned that at the first sign of trouble, he was going to burst in there and drag her out, whether she wanted to go or not.
Now, three days before the contingent of soldiers and ships were supposed to arrive, Grace was trying to convince the gnome caged next to her to help in their breakout. Soldiers coming down to attack the guards would put the prisoners in a great deal of danger, so Grace, Lumia, and Shul wanted to drive them out into the open, where they would be easily taken care of.
For some reason, the gnome was still refusing, being unreasonably stubborn about leaving this place, despite the fact that all four World Beasts were on a collision course with what little remained of Faeland’s still-populated areas.
“No. I won’t,” the gnome repeated. “I don’t wanna leave.”
“But you’ll die! You do understand that, right?” Grace repeated.
“Maybe that’s what I deserve,” the gnome said.
“Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit!” Grace exclaimed. “You’re really going to stay here when the World Beasts show up and just let yourself die?”
“Shut up!” one of the guards yelled, but Grace ignored him, staring through the bars of her cage at the gnome.
“I don’t want to leave,” the gnome repeated.
“And are you going to condemn hundreds of innocents to death because you couldn’t be bothered to help?”
“I already have,” the gnome said, curling in tighter. “They’re all going to die because of what I did, and nothing I do will make any difference.”
Grace let out a frustrated sigh as she tried prodding at the gnome, but he refused to rise to her bait, remaining curled in his usual ball.
She looked up to a light fluttering, and a moment later, Lumia darted into the cage, clutching a small bag between her jaws.
“Have you gotten the gnome to agree yet?” she asked as she dropped the bag with a light thump.
“No,” Grace responded with a sigh. “He’s refusing to do anything. All he wants to do is lie there and sulk.”
“Keep trying,” Lumia said. “You can be quite persuasive when you want to. No one can resist you forever.”
“He can,” Grace muttered, looking to the wrinkled sack of cloth in the cage over. “What’s in the bag?” she asked, turning her attention back to the small pack Lumia had snuck in.
She hadn’t been able to bring much the first few times, but Grace had asked for some things, and she really hoped Morgan had come through.
“Everything you asked for,” Lumia said, laughing lightly. “Katherine made this bag especially for you, and Morgan loaded it up with the things you wanted. Sarah added even more on top of that. They have a message for you as well. They can’t wait to see you again, and Sarah is looking forward to her new haircut.”
Grace found herself grinning even as her eyes grew misty. She’d spent weeks thinking that she’d been abandoned, but this showed her how much people cared about her.
She quickly pulled the bag open, careful to turn her back to the guard as she did, and hunched over to see what had been packed for her. Grace marveled as she removed several packages of trail rations – not the best food, but definitely better than what they’d been feeding her.
There were three changes of clothes, a set of armor, her brushes, soap, a mirror, and several canteens of water. Additionally, there was a small bowl, a pair of scissors, and an entire bag of beast cores. The last item was one she hadn’t asked for but had been provided by Sarah. There was even a small note attached from Morgan, who said she might miss out on a few attribute points but now knew a way to make up the difference.
Grace gratefully bit into the dry crackers and meat, taking small sips from the canteen and already imagining how amazing her hair would feel after a few good washes. She still didn’t know how she was going to manage to change or how she’d be able to wash her body with the cage being as open as it was, but she was sure she could figure something out.
At the moment, she was happy eating, enjoying the familiar weight of Lumia in her lap, and thinking of the days ahead and what it would mean for all the poor, unfortunate souls stuck down there with her.
41
Morgan turned his hips, twisting his shoulders and pivoting on his back foot. His fist, having collected all the power from that extra movement, smashed into the cultist’s nose, shattering her skull and sending the fragments out at such high speeds that they tore into her nearby allies, ripping into flesh, breaking bones, and, in the case of a particularly unlucky elf, killing him outright.
Several of the surrounding cultists recoiled, only to walk directly into a wall of earthen spikes, courtesy of Elyssa. Ever since the death of her guardian, Gilderon, she seemed to have a particular hatred for their kind and would go out of her way to kill them when they came near.
Morgan turned to face the group on his left, only for Sarah to swoop in, a very familiar-looking scythe made of shining blue ice complete with a crimson blade clutched in her hands. She swept it across in a vicious hook, cutting through several of Strangler’s minions and leaving them to fall to the ground in several pieces.
He took a step forward, preparing to go after the cultists at the rear of the attacking force, only for Malachi and Ragnar to fall on them. The dwarf’s massive hammer turned their skulls to pulp while the beastman’s claws shredded their bodies to bloody chunks.
Morgan stood back, shaking his head in wonder as he watched the others ripping the cultists apart. Why had he even bothered coming to confront them in the first place if they were going to come “help?”
Shrugging, Morgan backed off, floating into the air and looking to their surroundings. This was the fifth attacking party in the last couple days, and their methods couldn’t be any clearer. They always attacked from the same direction, with the obvious intention of driving their force just a little more to the south with each strike.
They were trying to get them to pass through the ambush site, which was now only a day and a half away. Their forces were already pretty tired, what with the forced march and reduced sleep hours, but the constant rumbling, the small fissures opening in their paths, and the darkened skies convinced them that the forced march was their best course of action.
The World Beasts were so close that Morgan could see them from just two hundred feet up, though, in all fairness, his eyesight was pretty amazing. Still, it felt like they were facing impossible odds, and time was not on their side.
His gaze flickered down to the attacking force, then out in the direction from which they’d come. He could sense them now, the last group of blank absences leaving the city. He’d been waiting for such an opportunity. He’d been feeling the massing of forces as the cultists had been pushing them farther and farther afield.
By his estimates, they would be marching out sometime tonight, while those from the capital would be leaving early tomorrow morning. Together, they would hit them with a pincer attack in the area Morgan had pointed out in an attempt to crush their enemies once and for all. If Morgan didn’t already know that that was what they were doing, it would be a sound, tactical plan. A way to catch the enemy in a vulnerable position and end them before they could do any more harm. However, they did know and had plans of their own.
The last cultists were killed off, their bodies brutalized in ways that no other normal soldiers would have been. It seemed that everyone felt the same about the cultists. They were more like animals than people, deserving no mercy.
“Well, that was quick,” Morgan said, drifting back down to the ground.
“Filthy cultists,” Elyssa growled, kicking the severed head of a gnome. “I wish I could bring them back and kill them a thousand times over for what they did!”
“Well, you’ll get a chance to kill some more in the next few hours,” Morgan said. “The last group is already on their way, which means it’s about time I head out.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any company?” Elyssa asked, turning her attention from the corpse.
Morgan shook his head.
“We need everyone to stay here. If the enemy even suspects that I or any other powerful fighters are missing, they’ll think we’re up to something. Our plans hinge on the enemy not suspecting a thing, which was why we waited for the last of the cultists to leave before I went for my little visit.”
Elyssa nodded hesitantly and motioned one of her guards forward.
“You ready?” she asked him.
The guard, an elf who appeared in his early thirties, gave her a crisp salute, then turned and placed a hand on Morgan’s chest. Before their eyes, the elf changed, growing taller, bulkier, and fiercer. His clothes, skin tone, and features warped and writhed disturbingly, and in less than half a minute, Morgan found himself staring at a perfect copy of himself.
The guard wouldn’t be able to talk, as his skill didn’t allow for the imitation of vocal patterns or speech, but when Morgan reached out and touched him, he felt quite substantial. He could see right through the transformation, see the swirling blue light of his mana coursing through a large construct of himself, but this would be good enough to fool the enemy, which was all that mattered.
“Take care of yourselves. If all goes according to plan, I should be back in two days.”
He then tapped the pendant on his chest.
“I’ll keep in contact through Katherine, and you can relay any important messages through her.”
“Are you sure you can’t pop back and visit?” Sarah asked, almost pouting.
“I’m only going to be gone for two days,” Morgan said with a grin. “We’ll see each other again then.”
Sarah didn’t really seem mollified, but she leaned in and kissed him all the same, a deep, long, and passionate kiss that made everyone in their immediate vicinity turn away in discomfort. When she pulled back, her face was a bit flushed, but she had a smirk on her face that told Morgan she’d done that on purpose.
“Just to remind you what you’ll be missing,” she said in a low voice, then leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, remember to eat, and do try and get just a little sleep, even if it’s a short nap.”
“I promise,” he said, giving her arms a squeeze.
Then, he stepped back, and the world warped around him as he used his Rift skill.
***
Fortuna, the second-in-command of Tagar’s forces, stood with her back straight, hands clasped behind her, her eyes trained on a spot halfway up the wall.
“You know,” Tagar said, “you don’t have to be so stiff and formal every time you come to give me a report.”
“But you’re my commander, sir. It would be disrespectful of me to act any other way.”
Tagar was sitting behind his desk in his private office in Gnomia. The city was gearing up for battle, their forces gathering and preparing to march out as ordered by Shedra, the new leader of the Arcane Kingdom. The last of his new allies had left about an hour ago, and truthfully, he was glad they were gone.
He wasn’t overly fond of the cultists, but he was simply following orders as a good soldier should. It was probably why Shedra had put him in charge of Gnomia after killing their former city commander. He’d grown up here. The people looked up to him, and as a military commander, he had the respect of his army.
Despite all of that, even he was beginning to have his reservations about what they were doing here. Not to mention the fact that now of all times, the allied forces decided to put themselves in such a vulnerable position. They’d been meticulous in their planning, winning battle after battle as they forced their way over here.
So why change tactics now?
The room shook at that moment, the many books and other unattached items rattling and shaking as another tremor ran through the main compound. They were growing more frequent, he noted, continuing to scribble down his report to be filed by one of his clerks. He sincerely hoped it would stop soon.
“Sir?”
Tagar looked up to see Fortuna, still staring at a spot on the wall over his shoulder. It seemed he’d become lost in thought again and had forgotten she was there.
“At ease,” he said. “And that’s an order.”
Fortuna looked as though she wanted to protest, but seeing as it was an order, she allowed her posture to relax, finally looking to him as he set his quill down.
“Tell me what you’ve come to report,” Tagar said, giving her his full attention.
“The troops are ready to march, sir,” Fortuna said, still speaking stiffly. “The city guard is preparing to bolt the gates as soon as we leave, and the civilians are being moved to shelters as we speak.”
“What of our food supply?” Tagar asked, interlacing his fingers.
“We have maybe a week’s worth of provisions left, sir,” Fortuna replied, trying to hide a grimace. “The surprise attack by the enemy destroyed nearly everything we had.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing this will all be over in the next few days,” Tagar said, leaning back in his chair. “We are no longer in the position to be able to fight a sustained war.”
“I’ll say. Though, in all honesty, you’ll probably all be dead in the next few days anyway, so I don’t think a food shortage will be a problem.”
Tagar shot to his feet, the slim rapier leaning against his desk drawn and leveled at the intruder in an instant. Fortuna reacted just as quickly, pulling a similar weapon from her belt and whirling to face the enemy.
The creature they saw leaning against the far wall was nothing like either of them had seen before. He had sharp features, like the beastmen, but was lacking their fur. He was wide and muscular, like the dwarves, but that was offset by his height, which made him look far less bulky. The tips of his ears were tapered but shorter than those of the elves.
Hell, if Tagar didn’t immediately recognize who this was from the descriptions given to him, he might have assumed that this was some sort of hybrid of all the races opposing them.
“You are Morgan,” Tagar said. “The enemy Supermage who singlehandedly wiped out nearly all our supplies and killed thousands of our soldiers.”
The man, Morgan, smiled, pushing himself off the wall and giving a slight bow.
“I’m afraid I’m at a bit of a disadvantage,” Morgan said. “Because while it appears you know my name, I’m afraid I don’t know either of yours.”
“I am Tagar, commander of the city of Gnomia and its military. This is Fortuna, my second-in-command.”
Tagar was surprised at his own calmness as he faced down this monster. The fact that he’d managed to get in here told him that neither he nor Fortuna stood a chance of defeating him. In fact, even if he’d faced Morgan with his entire army at his back, he wouldn’t have been confident of a win.
This man had singlehandedly wiped out four entire garrisons on his own, and all in a matter of minutes. If he said he’d wipe this entire city off the face of the continent, Tagar would take that threat to heart. There was also the fact that there was a presence about him, a crushing aura that bore down on Tagar’s chest and shoulders, making it difficult to so much as breathe.
“Great,” Morgan said, strolling over to one of the chairs and taking a seat. “Now that we’ve been officially introduced, let’s say we have a little chat about the future of your race.”
42
Today is the day. That was the first thought that popped into Grace’s mind as she woke from another fitful night of sleep.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring down at the small body of the drake, who was curled up against her stomach. She was very warm, the small rise and fall of her back letting Grace know that the drake wasn’t suffering from the same anxiety she was. Though, seeing as Lumia was ranked somewhere in the high 70s, that was hardly a surprise.
Through the bars of her cage, Grace could see her sleeping guard. The gnome was nearing the end of his shift, which meant he was as sleepy as could be. The guard change would be happening in the next five or six hours, which meant they would be acting soon.
She rose slowly, careful to keep Lumia hidden, and ran her fingers through her hair. It was a testament to how inattentive the guards were that they hadn’t noticed the change. Her hair was now once again shining and lustrous, though, as she’d already suspected, it wasn’t up to her usual standards.
It was going to take some time to rehabilitate her hair after so much neglect, but now that she’d managed a makeshift bath and had cut the worst knots and tangles from her hair and brushed out the rest, she felt like a new person. The change of clothes also helped, a task she’d managed by using the jacket Sarah had packed for her in case it got too cold.
Changing beneath the garment had been awkward, but she felt so much better now that she had. Her old clothes were bundled into the far corner of her cell. They smelled so offensive that she had no idea how she’d been able to wear them for so long. But, in the end, she had to view them as a tribute to her own ability to survive and keep going. Staying here for as long as she had had been extremely difficult, especially when she’d had no idea how she was getting out of here. And now that the time for their escape was near, she was starting to feel nervous.
According to the report Lumia had brought in last night, the ships coming from the East would be arriving near midday to begin the boarding process. The civilians, along with a force of five-hundred soldiers, were on course to arrive roughly a half-hour before, which meant that they would need to figure out a way to drive these guards outside before then.
Grace turned her attention to the curled-up form of the gnome who still refused to listen, even after several more days of prodding and coaxing. She’d tried everything, from begging and guilting to bribing and flattering. The gnome was unmoved, no matter what she tried to do, and the lack of results was beyond aggravating.
Even with all the cores Morgan had provided, she didn’t think she’d have what it took to drive this many guards out into the open, and even if she somehow could, there would definitely be casualties.
